


Brittle, and Breaking

by bluefallenfandomwallflowers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BUT GOOD, Bottom Dean, Coda, Episode: s12e14 The Raid, Hurt/Comfort, It's just a confusing fic XD, M/M, Protective Castiel, Slightly - Freeform, Smut, Top Castiel, because nobody cries XD, don't um think i suck or anything, idek, idk if this title is misleading, still! i thought the smut was good ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10095728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefallenfandomwallflowers/pseuds/bluefallenfandomwallflowers
Summary: Dean finds out that both his mother and his brother have joined the enemy.Instead of yelling, he leaves and calls the one person he wants to see...And the one person who can give him the release he needs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll XD
> 
> I don't know if anyone will enjoy this fic, but i just had to write it down?? So, i'm sorry lol! 
> 
> Also, just know that I LOVE SAM WINCHESTER <3
> 
> But, in this fic, Dean is hurt by him. 
> 
> There's no hate, but Sam does not come off strongly in this... ;(
> 
> I'm still wondering if i like the BMOL, honestly, but in this fic Ketch is a total asshole XD
> 
> okay okay enough weird spoilers...  
> enjoy!!!

A dingy bar that wafted a thick smoky scent wasn’t his first choice, but Cas was the one who suggested it. Obviously he was thinking that it would make him more comfortable, but things have changed and Cas hasn’t even had the chance to realize it.

But, as Dean sits in the corner of the dimly lit room, billowing laughs drifting over from the pool tables, sulking against the small round table with a frown and a wet fingertip rubbing down the side of his beer, he immediately lights up at the sound of the door opening.

His eyes rise up to watch Cas slyly. The angel stares down at his phone, typing up something before slipping it into his pocket.

It’s almost embarrassing when Dean goes shy, eyes sweeping to the tabletop when Cas’ head turns, just like it always is these days.

He’s so close.

And he just can’t seem to take that final step.

The chair across from his slides out soundlessly and Cas’ coat ruffles as he slides it off and Dean is swallowing thickly.

“Dean? What is it?”

A shuddering breath escapes his throat and he rubs his eyes. “Cas, I need to tell you something. And… I just… I need you on my side, man.”

Cas is silent, but the air grows warm around him and Dean relaxes.

He’s safe with Cas.

Finally, he looks up and of course.

Those sincere blue eyes look at him with a strength Dean doesn’t possess, so trusting it’s almost insane.

Seriously. This… This _angel_ would follow him straight back to the Hell he plucked Dean from without question and that’s a scary power to have.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says softly, leaning forward.

He has to glance away again as he starts.

And by the end of it, Cas’ eyes are wide and he’s slowly shaking his head in disbelief.

“So Sam and your mother are part of the British Men of Letters,” Cas states, eyes catching on a notch in the table, his pinky tracing the edge of the smooth wood. His teeth catch on his bottom lip and he sighs heavily, a hand trailing through his hair and Dean’s heart beats rough at the sight.

“Yeah,” he confirms, the annoyance creeping back up into his chest at the thought.

His own fucking brother, his mother.

It wasn’t hard to figure out after that vamp hunt; Sam was shit at hiding new messages, and they both disappeared much too often in unison for it to be anything that could be considered inconspicuous.

The worst part was the conversation Sam tried to initiate after Dean’s blow up.

_They’re trying to save the world, Dean._

_Isn’t that what_ we’re _trying to do, Sam?_

Their words were too brittle, and Dean had stomped away to pack too many pairs of pants and not enough shirts before getting the hell out of there and driving without a destination in mind.

And calling Cas because there was no one else he would rather see.

It truly is a strange sensation that Cas’ presence sends through him. It’s calming, reassuring, kind.

Unreal.

“We have to get out of here,” Dean grumbles, chair stuttering back as he stands, throwing a few crumpled bills down before grabbing Cas by the arm and dragging him out of the bar.

Cas, of course, doesn’t complain, and he forgets all about his truck and instead clambers into the Impala silently.

The ride is tense and Dean doesn’t know with what, but it’s so thick that he could slice it with a knife and Cas is watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Dean…”

That’s it.

He pulls over on the side of a darkened road and all Cas can give him is a look of concern before Dean is slipping across the seat and kissing Cas hard on the mouth.

A gasp of surprise shivers through Cas’ body and then he’s melting beneath Dean’s touch, hands grappling for his jacket and lips smashing together. It’s heated, perfect, smoothing away the bumps underneath his skin, even if just for a little while.

“Been too long,” Dean breathes, breaking away to latch onto Cas’ neck instead, hand going to his belt.

“I—Yes, but,” Cas tries to interject, but Dean doesn’t give him a chance, because he knows, he _knows_ and he doesn’t care.

Not now, when he could be on the verge of breaking down without this, without Cas to help him forget.

He yanks Cas flat onto his back, his damn trench coat wrapping around Dean’s ankles as he pulls Cas’ weeping cock out and sinks his mouth down onto him, moaning, fingers pressing down over Cas’ outrageously sharp hipbones.

“Shit, _Dean_ ,” Cas groans, hand moving to Dean’s head, tugging on his hair. He sucks him for a few moments more, fucking addicted until Cas starts squirming, and not in the way he was before. “You- you don’t have to do this.”

Dean pops off of Cas’ cock, eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to, Cas.” He smirks, palm smoothing down Cas’ thigh, squeezing. “On that note, there’s something else I wanna do…”

Cas’ left eyebrow pops up and his pointer finger slowly trails down Dean’s cheek, tracing his jaw. “And what’s that?”

“Want you to fuck me,” Dean whispers, cheeks burning with lust, and his eyes must be wild.

And they most certainly are, Cas’ reaction being to push Dean back and climb into his lap, tilting his head back to kiss him hot, filthy, ripping the jacket off of his shoulders along with his shirts. Their clothes are thrown to the floorboards, Cas’ tie having been wrapped loosely around Dean’s thigh at some point.

“Lubricant?”

Dean grins. “Dashboard.”

It’s swift from there. Dean’s head is thrown back on the leather, his skin prickling with goosebumps when Cas’ breath skates over the back of his thighs, fingers slick inside of him, persistent. Cas is always meticulous, even when Dean is begging him to hurry, to go fast, saying it doesn’t matter and that Cas won’t break him.

But it doesn’t sway the angel one bit—he simply shoots Dean an affectionate look before sweeping over his prostate, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip with a smirk when Dean bucks up with an astonished gasp.

“Ready?” Cas’ hand splays over the side of his knee, spreading Dean’s legs apart. His eyes sparkle darkly and Dean’s next inhale wisps through his teeth.

He nods, and Cas grins, kissing him gently. 

Dean loves this of course, but _fuck_. “ _Cas_. Please, babe, I need you right now.”

With a sheepish laugh, Cas doesn’t waste time and pushes into him, face hidden in Dean’s neck as they both moan, fingers gripping at skin, a wave of pleasure rushing through him. Dean’s back rises from the seat and his eyes are squeezed shut as he adjusts, shin smoothing up Cas’ side with thrilling anticipation.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asks him, lips pressing against Dean’s cheek.

“Not as good as I’ll feel in a few minutes,” he jokes, his grin wobbly. He bites his lip and cups Cas’ face, shaking.

Cas smooths Dean’s hair back, gazing into his eyes. “I have you,” he says, causing Dean’s heart to plummet into the pooling desire deep inside his chest, blinking slowly.

“O-okay.”

Then he’s groaning thoroughly and it vibrates through him as Cas begins to move, almost sliding all the way out before thrusting back in briskly, punching the air out of Dean’s lungs. They set a rhythm that becomes rapid and unyielding, and Cas does have him.

Cas’ fingers sweep down Dean’s neck into the sheen of sweat marking his collar bone, pressing down over his heart. It’s fast, pressure building in his belly, his lower back magnificently tense. His ankle twists at Cas’ spine, the bottom of his other foot making the passenger side door creak.

Whimpering, he grabs Cas by the hair, marking his lips up with bites that someone ordinary would cry out in pain about, but it just sends Cas into a whirl of lust, practically growling and he fucks Dean harder, so hard that he forgets everything else.

Just what he needed.

“I’m close,” Dean grumbles, eyebrows coming together as his back arches. Cas finally hits his prostate, and it’s no accident by the smirk that graces the angel’s lips, biting down on Dean’s jaw.

Cas lets out a breathy moan, saying, “Me too, sweetheart,” before twisting his hips, pulling Dean closer by his thigh and fucking him diligently, the position that much more intimate as Dean babbles on a litany of curses, hand so tight on Cas’ shoulder that when he pulls it away to run his fingers along the hair on Cas’ nape, there’s a red print left on his smooth skin.

Like the one Cas marked upon him all those years ago.

It brings him to climax, thinking of them, of Cas, of how much of Dean’s shit he puts up with constantly. How he’s fucking Dean in his car without complaint, promising to take care of him even though Dean doesn’t need it.

Or… perhaps he does.

Dean’s come paints their stomachs, the bliss raining over him with such intensity that he’s seeing black spots.

“I love you,” he gasps, still rocking as Cas continues thrusting into him, much more inconsistent as he reaches his end.

And then as Cas stutters, mouth wet on Dean’s neck, he seems to just slip away into utter ecstasy, unable to keep his eyes open for another second.

 

-

 

He stirs awake at the feel of a buzz vibrating the leather seat, his skin plastered against Cas’ warmth, curled up over the angel like a sleeping child. An involuntary smile slides onto his face and he just can’t help it, tilting his head up to observe Cas who looks content, only frowning when the buzz becomes more determined.

“Sorry,” Cas grumbles, caressing Dean’s side gently as he shifts, fingers waving over the floorboards until it meets the violent vibrations.

“Hello?” Cas answers, voice gravelly and sexy as hell as he leans back, pulling Dean close.

Dean is grateful for it, because the inside of the Impala has grown chilly. He tucks his feet under Cas’ shins, feeling so safe and happy it _has_ to be a dream.

But then Cas is tensing up and Dean would kill the person on the other end of the line if he could.

“What do you want?”

Dean shifts, rising up on one elbow with a worried grimace. Cas’ eyes flash dangerously at the ceiling as the person speaks, voice only a muffle to Dean’s ears.

“Both of us?” Cas asks, glancing at Dean.

Uh oh.

“I will have to discuss this with Dean before accepting.”

The unknown caller must say something sarcastic, because Cas’ eyes narrow. “I will get back to you.”

Then he ends the call, his phone dropping to his chest, near where Dean’s fingers are drawing circles on his pectoral. His hand stills and their eyes meet.

“Mr. Ketch would like to meet up and discuss a few things that may _convince_ us,” Cas explains, rolling his eyes. He rubs at his forehead and Dean immediately feels the need to comfort him, _protect_ him, from anything and anyone.

“Seriously?” He laughs, the anger rising, hot and brutal. “Those fucking—how dare they!”

“Yes. But…”

“What?”

Cas’ lips purse and his eyes fall away.

“ _What_.”

“Maybe we should? You know, just to hear what they have to say.”

Dean feels his heart drop. “I- I thought you were on my side, Cas.” He sits up, suddenly uncomfortable. “You said--”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas interrupts, shaking his head, rising up along with him. “That’s not what I meant.”

“How can you say that? Why would you want to talk to those sons of bitches at all if there wasn’t the chance that you would change your mind?” Dean’s heart is racing and he feels cold and lost and--

Cas looks frantic as he cups Dean’s face, eyes big and blue and distraught. “I am on your side, Dean. 100%. No matter what, I am _yours_. Okay?”

And for a moment, Dean almost doesn’t believe him. He’s so… scared. And he can’t help it. He can’t push it back.

Not until Cas kisses him, passionate as he holds Dean gently, unrelenting, desperate. “I love you so much, Dean,” Cas whispers, and his head is still shaking, because maybe he’s scared too. “Please believe me.”

“I do, Cas,” Dean affirms, nodding. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Mom and Sam…”

Cas gives him an understanding look, thumb shaky on Dean’s cheekbone. “I know. And that’s why I think we should talk to them. We can see things from their perspective and figure out a way to get them back. To save them.”

A sigh of relief escapes Dean in one blow, forehead falling to Cas’ shoulder. “Fuck. Thank you so much.”

“Mm,” Cas hums, smiling.

Their lips meet again and they kiss languidly, Cas moaning sweetly as they fall back again. It quickly becomes heated when Dean takes them both in hand, Cas groaning beautifully.

It’s fast and sort of affectionate, Cas much more compliant than the night before, submissive even, as Dean sucks on the incredibly soft spot beneath Cas’ ear, at his beating pulse, the bolt of his jaw and finally his lips, soft and yielding, and Cas is keening.

After they’ve spent the last of their energy and calmed down long enough to start laughing softly, making stupid jokes about Ketch and Mick, and how they’re both completely done with bearded British guys, the sun is peeking over from the horizon and it’s much too cold to lie naked any longer.

Reluctantly, they redress, Dean actually feeling disappointed when Cas’ fingers deftly unravel the tie from his thigh.

But it feels surreal, even as they head towards somewhere near the edge of Tennessee to a bunch of assholes, the last people on earth Dean wishes to engage with at the moment.

The drive is sort of nice, and Cas keeps his spirits up with longing gazes and by holding his hand, sending little thrills up his arm and melting his brain in a wonderful way.

But he hardens diminutively inside once they pull into the parking lot of a fancy restaurant. It’s slightly humorous, the location.

“Must be scared of a little confrontation,” Dean jokes, kicking the Impala into park while throwing himself back into the seat.

“They must know you,” Cas retorts with a mellow smile, head tilting.

It eases the situation a little bit, and Dean grips Cas’ hand and sighs before they separate, climbing out of the Impala.

They’re greeted by a hostess, but Cas touches Dean on the back, gesturing to the corner of the restaurant.

Ketch merely smirks as they approach, eyes skimming over Cas before meeting Dean’s, raising two sweating bottles. “Drink?”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Dean blurts out angrily, sliding into the opposite booth roughly.

“And when has that ever stopped you before?” Ketch raises his eyebrows and Dean takes the beer with a glare.

The memories of the past few days fly right back to the front of his mind, and all he sees is Mary, so different, as obsessed with hunting as he has been. He loves her, they have somewhat made their peace, and yet it hurts.

Because she took Sammy with her.

And these men in front of him are responsible.

Mick looks uncomfortable, shifting and giving Ketch a sideways glance. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Then they launch into some sort of memorized speech, even Ketch sounding as cliché as Sunday school, not even throwing in believable passion towards the matter. And before they can get halfway into their little monologue, Cas is out of his seat, all power, standing so tall Dean swallows thickly.

“I don’t believe we need to hear anything more,” he says darkly.

As he waits for Dean to scramble after him, Ketch laughs. “So committed to the role, dear Castiel… It’s adorable.”

Cas’ eyebrows furrow as he glares. “Excuse me?”

“Being Dean’s pet requires a lot of… persistence,” Ketch continues, jaw hardening. “Not even allowed to think freely, I see.”

“I am not Dean’s pet,” Cas states, shaking his head. “I am on his side, and I always will be.”

Ketch smiles, malicious. “The submissive one I see.”

Dean stands next to him, frowning, blood boiling.

“Not usually,” Cas says, nonchalant, utterly undrawn by Ketch’s words. He glances over at Dean with a little sparkle in his eyes. “But, I’ve been known to make exceptions.”

And with that, Cas turns and strides off, hot as hell and Dean would be panting if he were in another situation.

Instead, he shoots Ketch and Mick the most sinister look he can manage before following after Cas, beer still in hand.

 

-

 

“That was, um, hot,” Dean admits to the silence that had been active for the past twenty minutes, driving off towards yet another unknown destination.

It wasn’t awkward exactly, just tense, and Cas was staring out the window with a contemplative look, fingers smoothing over his lips as he thinks.

At Dean’s confession, Cas peers over at him with a slight smirk, a light laugh slipping from the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t realize full-blown anger was such a turn on for you,” Cas grumbles with a growing smile.

“Maybe… a lot.” Dean blushes, but Cas punches him in the arm and he grins. “So, guess that little trip was for nothing.”

“No,” Cas argues, turning in his seat. He tugs his trench coat off and Dean realizes that he’s about to receive a lecture that may or may not get him hard. “It told us everything we needed to know.”

“Huh?”

“That here, in America, where they’ve only brought a fraction of their power, they’re desperate. Especially to recruit us all.” Cas’ hands wave in the air and Dean can’t help smiling as he grows in excitement. “Which means, out of that desperation, there is the chance that an error could occur… Causing Sam and your mother to realize that this isn’t _right_. That they are not everything they claim to be.”

“That’s true… It’s pretty obvious that Ketch is the only real muscle they have, at least here. And I bet Mick hasn’t gotten his soft little hands dirty once in his whole sucky British life.”

Cas nods. “We just have to find a way to expose their faults.”

“Hunting isn’t some clean, easy task,” Dean goes on to say, fucking empowered by this whole damn plan they have going. “You have to _care_ , you know? You get blood on your hands and you screw up and learn and you deal with it. And, _fuck_ , it’s not like I chose this life, you know?”

“I know, Dean,” Cas agrees, gripping his upper arm. “I understand.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Dean says softly, fingers closing around the wheel tightly, eyes starting to water.

With an affectionate smile, Cas slides closer, head resting against Dean’s arm. “We’ll get through this, Dean. We always do.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, cheek coming to press against Cas’ hair. “We always do.”


End file.
